"Why did you become a dancer"
"Why, I wonder… Before I realised it I was dancing. My dad hated the fact that I did ballet even though I was a boy"
(Second Love episodes 1+2)
the stereotypical belief that dance and especially ballet is only for girls, is absolutely disgusting.
Art is for e v e r y o n e
This picture is on the wall at my dance studio, and we all just love it to pieces.
Credit to the Australian Ballet for the dancers/models in the picture, and Vogue for the photography.
I’m trying to prove a point to my parents and my grandma
Give me 50 reasons why a boy shouldnt be able to do ballet and i still wont believe you
There’s nothing wrong with a boy doing ballet, it’s actually pretty awesome.
Hey if JCVD can do ballet, so can anyone!
…um, excuse me?
“Boys” cannot do ballet.
Men can do ballet.
(also, this is now a Baryshnikov appreciation post, so deal with it)
Appreciating
The New York City Ballet x Henry Leutwyle
Photographer Henry Leutwyle captures the intimate subculture of professional ballet.
Letting Him Go
There is a particular kind of suffering to be experienced when you love something greater than yourself.A tender sacrifice. Like the pained silence felt in the lost song of a mermaid; or the bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. It is in every considered step I am taking in the opposite direction of you.
Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.
sunshinesortofgirl
sunsetablaze
the real cost of art?
the real cost of art is your life falling apart
and you finding a safe corner of the world to
turn the ache into ink.
the real cost of art is how blood runs red and your heart beats out
a war cry,
and you turn it into a song slow enough to stop hurricanes.
the real cost of art are all the tears that have fallen,
all the loves that were forgotten,
all the lives buried under your skin like a memory that still tastes
like cinnamon and purple sunsets and dancing so wild on the
streets of a city you swear you know,
the real cost of art is letting all of that go.
the real cost of art is accepting it,
scars and all.
the real cost of art is how this isn’t going to be a pretty poem,
but maybe it will make your heart hurt less.
